Monday, October 26, 2009

Thoughts on raising a boy: Part 1073

{Don't forget to enter the FAB BAG giveaway!}
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Well, Beck had a big time this weekend. We went with my parents to their Lakehouse and he learned to throw rocks in the lake, which is pretty much the coolest thing when you're 16-months old. All was fine and dandy, until my nature-lover-of-a-husband discovered A SNAKE. A real, live, snake that might as well been an eighteen foot long boa constrictor, even though it was barely two feet long. Regardless of length, it was still A SNAKE.
Then, in a stroke of genius, he encouraged MY SON to touch the SNAKE. And Beck practically squeezed its guts out while I freaked on the shoreline, threatening my husband from afar by pointing and shrieking wildly about salmonella and germs and rabies and cooties and any other nasty thing that snake skin may contain.

Is this what it's going to be like to be the mother to a son? Because I don't think I'm prepared for snakes. Or any other species belonging to the amphibious or reptilian families. Ugh.

Moving on, it's going to be one of those weeks for like the next four and a half weeks. The kind of weeks where I wonder if we'll have clean clothes or milk in the fridge. Not only is Halloween five days away (and I still haven't finished Beck's costume), but I have a door and pumpkin to finish decorating, a speaking engagment before the entire student body on Thursday, and report card season and parent-teacher conferences are on the horizon. Sigh.

{Doesn't it sound a lot more important for me to say speaking engagement rather than a five minute spiel about poptab collection for the Ronald McDonald House? Either way, it's in front of 800 people and that. is. a. lot. Even if most of the audience will be 10 and under. I talk fast and tend to trip a lot, so say a prayer that I do okay.}

And, lastly, you should know that while I sorted through things in my classroom today, Beck occupied himself by removing tissues from an entire box of Kleenex and stuffing them into a jar. I didn't feel the least bit wasteful for it either. I needed those three minutes. He is a stinker. Love him.

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